


Despite Everything

by TopClassFool



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Internal Monologue, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, bit of a ramble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 21:26:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11322057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TopClassFool/pseuds/TopClassFool
Summary: There was a specific moment when Chandler had realised that his mind had been made up and he had come to a decision.





	Despite Everything

There was a specific moment when Chandler had realised that his mind had been made up and he had come to a decision. There was an instant one evening when despite everything the team had been going through and how dark and despaired he himself had felt, there was a moment of clarity – a eureka moment he supposed. That spark of clarity that was brought to him with a gentle smile and a belief. A belief in not only his investigative skills but in him as he was. Kent. It was then, when he'd finally looked at the young man properly for the first time in months, that Chandler realised he needed to do something.

 

“You'll think of something, I know you will.”

 

Soft reassurance and hope. A tinge of warmth to thaw the ice of dread and confusion. The tender, heart sore ache had been soothed by a kind smile.

 

Throughout the years Chandler had worked with him, Kent had proven himself time and time again to be a capable officer, with a sharp mind and keen instincts. He had learnt from Chandler, from Miles and had worked hard thought their investigations. Even, and especially, when those investigations had pushed them all ragged. Chandler had been amazed at his resilience when he had come back after his striping; guilt and bitterness had swept Chandler when he'd had to suspend him, yet Kent had waved his apologies ad had forgiven him easily. 

 

The team, or what was left of it had pulled themselves together and stood unified at McCormack's memorial get together. Chandler had seen Kent talking softly to McCormack's wife, receiving an uncomfortable teary hug before excusing himself, eyes reddened. It had taken until Chandler he was slipping into bed that night to realise the burden Kent was carrying . A guilt that hadn’t and probably wouldn’t shift for his part, however much it had been out of his control, in the poor man's suicide. His poor wife and fatherless kids. Though by morning Chandler had heavier thoughts to bare brought in by damning headlines and Chief Super’s finger pointing, and all revelations had been lost.

 

It had never been, despite his best efforts, his intention to allow his team's welfare to fall on the back burner. He had always wanted to do his best for them, kept a keen eye out for any potential dangers and issues they might face. Yet his mind had become clouded with death and blood, unknown threats and Morgan Lamb. He had happily taken the time to help Kent work though his fears of the supernatural. The young man managing to keep hold of the open heart and innocent, sensitive soul even after the Brookes twins. He'd taken him to the crossroads, explained as best as he could that there was far more than enough to fear from fellow man than could ever hold a candle to any wicked being of superstition. It had seemed to do the trick, a small smile and a smoothened brow, faith in him to keep him safe Chandler now supposed, despite everything. Then Morgan Lamb entered his life.

 

The mists of sorrow and anger and despair had, with time, been allowed to dissipate. Chandler could see now with clearer eyes the strain they were all working under, the hard work they were still carrying out without complaint some twenty, thirty hours into their shift. And the shuddering reality that Kent may have had a genuine point. Although it had all worked out so tragically and Kent's theory proven wrong, the point he had should not have been so feverishly dismissed. He had been clouded by personal feelings, Kent had been right about that. He had been so infuriated that he could be called on his professionalism because he had put his hope and heart on the line. That fury had only intensified , compounded when he had seen her lifeless body, it had warped into a darkness that wouldn’t leave him. His demons biting at him as he swept in his misery, the easiest of prey. He had blamed Kent because it seemed too much for him to shoulder that responsibility. He had pushed the young man away, shot down his theories, belittled his work; not considering that Kent could be tearing himself apart because of that guilt Chandler had burdened him with.

 

Chandler had watched from afar as the man hardened and became jaded without really seeing or caring. It had taken that clear instance of a smile, sunlight falling behind him for Chandler to feel that worry and shame for punishing this poor soul who had been warring against his own set of demons. It had been so clear in that moment that they had both seen a darkness within themselves, how much the death and decay of the job took and took from them, how it wrung them out and still demanded more.

 

Yet despite this, despite how deeply they had both fallen down the rabbit hole, it was Kent that was trying to bring back hope. He had managed to drag himself through the darkness, was trying to fix himself and gave Chandler the hope to do the same. After everything he was still trying, still supporting Chandler. Despite everything, the absolution Chandler had craved finally seemed possible and he couldn’t have gotten there without Kent. His decisions made to be better for his team, for Kent most of all, came suddenly and easily. A fumbled offer of drinks gave him his chance to begin his redemption.

 

Chandler had been aware of Kent's affection to some extent, in the periphery of his mind; a respect as a mentor, support as a friend, perhaps as Riley and Mansell urged a dash of hero-worship as ridiculous as it seemed to Chandler. In that moment it hadn’t really mattered in what context Kent thought of him, only that Kent should know that Chandler had affection and appreciation for him and wanted to do something for him. As an apology, as a thank you, an olive branch of friendship or quite perhaps even as something else, something more. Chandler had a lot to make up for and despite the crash and the anger and the sorrow and the complete mess it all turned out to be, he was glad he did.

 

The room was a grey dark, morning still a few hours away and Chandler could just make out the familiar shadowed angles of his bedroom furniture . For once, there was nothing that seemed pressing, no dead body occupying his mind, no-one he needed to find justice far. Just the softness of a warm bed that managed to reach into his bones and settle there.

 

They had gone for that drink, commiserating yet another failure. Kent had somehow managed to lessen the sting of yet another case gone awry at the last moment into something far less sharp. He hasn’t allowed for Chandler's demons to take hold of him, instead challenging his despairing thoughts and wringing some positivity from them. Despite everything, the team could and would dust themselves off, come together and fight whatever came next. Chandler had began to believe him.

 

Looking across to the ruffled hair of the sleeping man next to him and knowing the telling off he'd get for allowing such maudlin thoughts, Chandler was struck by how for once, despite his demons and his worries and his guilt and his work edges, he knew he was right where he should be.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've posted anything. In fact, it's been a while since I've had anything even remotely worth being posted. It's hard getting back in to the swing of things but please let me know what you think. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it :)


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